There and back again
by RecliningHorizontally
Summary: A fight with a witch brings some unexpected trouble for Stiles when he wakes up and finds himself far from 2012. What will happen when something makes Stiles reconsider if he even wants to go back? Warnings: some language, corporal punishment and possibly parental spanking. Hurt!Stiles ;)
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: Seeing as this a period piece racist remarks might occur here and there but in no way do they reflect my personal beliefs. This story isn't beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine - feel free to point out annoying typos.  
** **Corporal punishment will be part of this story, so if that's not your thing this is the time to hit that back button. Everyone else; welcome to some hurt!Stiles ;) Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf and the cover photo isn't mine (no copyright infringement intended).  
**

* * *

Scott watched in terror as the old woman raised both hands, her palms facing the group.

"Get down!" Derek roared and grabbed Isaac who had started running towards the witch.

Derek tossed the teen to the ground and then fell to his knees, arms protectively wrapped around his head.

"LYDIA!" Stiles screamed and threw himself over the girl, just as the witch opened her mouth.

Words in a strange language flowed through the air as the witch chanted. She balled up her fists before releasing a huge energy wave, and her eyes temporarily glowed an icy blue as the blast boomed through the forest.  
The wave hit Stiles first, making him fly through the air, and he landed several feet away with a pained "oomph". He turned his head to see the witch closing in on his friends but could only utter a desperate squawk before everything went black.

-xxx-

Stiles woke with a start and fell to the floor. The duvet was wrapped around him and he wrestled it for a moment before realizing what it was.

"What's-," he mumbled as he got to his feet.

Stiles ran a hand though his hair and wondered how he'd gotten back to his house. The last thing he remembered was the energy wave blasting him off his feet and then everything turned black. He had to get a hold of Scott to hear what had happened after he was knocked out.

Stiles looked around and frowned at the room. He didn't remember taking down his posters or replacing his comfy desk chair with a wooden chair! Just how long had he been out cold? Stiles grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet along with a tee and quickly dressed. When he turned to his night stand to get his phone it wasn't there and the teen let out a curse.

"Where are you!" he said and ducked to look under the bed.

His phone was nowhere in sight and Stiles sighed. As he got back up, he looked at the alarm clock on the table and Stiles widened his eyes.

"Shit!" he exclaimed and threw open the door.

He trampled down the stairs, and out of the corner of his eye noticed a fully set table. Stiles raised a brow, wondering what could possibly make his dad cook such a breakfast. The room smelled wonderful and Stiles felt his stomach growl. He skidded to a halt and went back to grab a small stack of pancakes off a plate. Stiles quickly stuffed the first one in his mouth while opening the fridge. The teen crinkled his brow when he took out the milk. Since when did that stuff come in glass bottles? He unscrewed the cap and chugged down a huge gulp before putting the bottle back. Then he turned around and headed to the front door.

"Where do you think you're going in such a hurry, Stiles?" he heard his dad yell rather sternly, and without looking back Stiles opened the door and went outside.

"I'm gonna be late for school!" the teen hollered with a half eaten pancake hanging out his mouth.

When he went to the driveway his heart nearly stopped. His Jeep wasn't there, and Stiles wondered why Scott would leave his baby in the woods. How had they gotten home after the witch-fight? He turned around to go grab his skateboard instead, but noticed his dad leaving the house.

"Dad, can you give me a ride to school? Harris is gonna lose his shit if I'm late!"

The Sheriff stopped in his tracks, then turned to walk to his son. He raised a finger and pointed at Stiles sternly.

"What were those words just coming out your mouth, son?"

"Sorry, Dad," Stiles said and threw his dad a quick, confused look, "But can you give me a ride, please?"

"No, sorry, I have to get to the station. Just grab your bike like always!"

"My bike?" Stiles said slowly and turned around.

He noticed an old, rusty bike leaning against the side of the garage and nodded at it.

"What, that piece of crap-aah!"

The Sheriff thumped the teen in the back of the head and Stiles rubbed the spot.  
"Fine, I'll ride the bike. Jesus, Dad!"

Sheriff Stilinski sighed as Stiles got on the bicycle.

"In this house we don't take the Lord's name in vain! And straighten your hair, it's a mess."

"Oh-kaay..." Stiles said slowly, and with one last look on his father hurried down the driveway and headed for school.

-xxx-

Stiles threw the bike on the ground and raced to the doors. The halls were empty and his steps echoed down the corridor as he hurried to the right room. He took a deep breath and then knocked.

Harris narrowed his eyes when Stiles entered.

"Mr. Stilinski," he hissed and pointed at the empty desk with the ruler, "tardy for the third time in two weeks, that's another detention."

Stiles threw him an annoyed glance and quickly went to sit down, while a few of the girls rolled their eyes at him.

"And do something about that hair, you look like a hooligan!"

"What?" Stiles crinkled his forehead, but ran a hand through his messy hair nonetheless.

Mr. Harris started teaching again and Stiles looked to his left. His eyes grew wide as he spotted his best friend next to him. Stiles almost couldn't contain his laughter and had no idea why Scott would ever leave his house looking like that. The slacks and button-down shirt were one thing but the hair was unbelievable. Scott appeared to have half a bottle of grease in his dark hair, the locks combed up and forward and meeting in the middle to form a curl hanging down his forehead.

Stiles sent the teacher a quick glimpse and, when he turned his back to the class, caught Scott's attention.

"Scott," he whispered, "what happened with the witch?"

"What?" he said in a hushed voice, looking confused, "Stiles why do you look like that?"

"Like what? You're the one looking like freakin' Elvis!"

Scott raised a brow.

"Elvis is the king of Coolsville," he whispered and Stiles didn't know what to say to that, "You're not supposed to wear dungarees to school, you better hope Mrs. Moore doesn't see you!"

"Dunga-what?" Stiles asked, feeling more and more baffled.

Before Scott got a chance to answer, the ruler slapped down right in front of Stiles, making him jump in the seat.

"Would you like a trip to the principal's on top of your detention, Mr. Stilinski?" Harris slithered angrily.

Stiles bit down on his tongue for a moment and inhaled loudly.

"No!" he said then with as much attitude as possible.

Harris narrowed his eyes even further.

"No, what?"

"No, _thank you_?!" Stiles spat with an eye-roll, sick of Harris always being on his back.

The next second the ruler whistled through the air and caught Stiles right on the back of his hand.

"Aah," he yipped and rubbed his hand, "no, _sir_?" he tried then and threw the teacher an uncertain look.

Harris gave a curt nod and pointed at Stiles with the ruler.

"One more peep out of you and it's straight to the principal's."

Stiles nodded vigorously and felt his cheeks heat up. When Harris turned his back on them Stiles looked at Scott again.

"She must have cast some kind of insane spell," he whispered and looked around at all the greasy hair and poodle skirts in the room, "and we gotta figure out what the hell to do!"

"She who, Stiles? Are you okay, you seem different..."

"Me, Scott look at yourself, man, I'm not the one who doesn't look like myself here!"

Stiles shook his head when he sensed that Scott's confusion was sincere and he let out a puff of air.

"After class you're coming with me. We need to talk!"


	2. Chapter 2

Scott looked more and more disturbed as Stiles continued talking. When he sensed that his friend didn't believe him Stiles started biting the tip of his thumb and sent Scott a glance through narrowed eyes.

"So," Scott started slowly, "I'm a werewolf, so is Isaac, someone named Boyd, Erica Reyes and Derek Hale. Alison is a hunter, Lydia Martin is a banshee and Jackson Whittemore is a... a kanima? Stiles did you hit your head or something?"

"No, Scott," Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wondering how he could convince Scott of the truth.

"Okay, try this. You can usually make your claws appear by snapping your hand downwards. Try that."

Scott snapped his hand and looked at his fingers. Absolutely nothing happened.

"Stiles-"

"No! Okay, just, no! I'm telling you the truth, bro. We were fighting a witch and she made some sort of shock wave that blasted us everywhere and I woke up to this chaos. She must have wiped your memories or something..."

"We have to head back for class, Stiles. Mrs. Carver isn't exactly your biggest fan, and if she gets mad it won't be your hand hurting, you know!"

"What?" Stiles furrowed his brow and nearly tripped over his own feet when Scott grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him the first few feet towards the classroom.

"Scott it's 2012, what you're implying has been illegal in California for more than 25 years!"

"...2012? Stiles it's 1957!"

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks and felt his heart beat faster.

"Uh-what?!"

Stiles licked his lips and was just about to say something when he thought the better of it. Scott's clothes and hair, the girls' skirts, his dad's words about not swearing or taking the Lord's name in vain, that damned bike, no cell-phones. All of those things fit perfectly with a 1957 timeline. Sure, the supernatural world had unfolded to him over the last year or so, but time travel? What in the actual fuck!

"Shit!" he mumbled instead and felt his blood run cold. This was not good.

-xxx-

Stiles bounced his leg up and down frantically and was subconsciously biting his pencil. A panicky feeling was coursing through his veins and he had no idea how he was going to get out of this epic mess and back to 2012.

But getting Scott to believe him about the whole supernatural thing would be a start, and Stiles swallowed when an idea dawned in his head. He had tried it before in the beginning when Scott was bitten and it couldn't exactly be considered a success, but with no other obvious options it would have to do.

The hallways were swimming with teens ready for lunch, but despite hunger gnawing at his insides Stiles was dragging Scott with him to get outside.

"I know you're not gonna like it, okay, but we have to try this thing."

"You're not doing a very good job of getting me to come, Stiles, what is it?"

"I'll have t-oorph!"

Big hands simultaneously shoved at Stiles and Scott.

"Out of the way, fream, or you'll get a knuckle sandwich!" someone spat at Stiles.

"Yeah, get out of the way, wetback," another voice rasped at Scott.

Stiles wheezed when he collided roughly with the lockers, but quickly turned to see who had pushed him and said that offensive word to Scott. He scoffed at the sight. Jackson was snickering at him, flanked by two huge goons who chuckled stupidly. All three were wearing Letterman jackets, had their hair slicked back and smug looks plastered on their faces.

"Of course," Stiles muttered under his breath, "what the fuck's your problem, assholes?!" he continued and shoved Jackson back.

The jock looked surprised, both at the choice of profanities and the fact that someone dared push him back, and Jackson curled his lip into a snarl.

"What did you call me, Stilinski?"

Stiles shoved him again and Scott gasped.

"Stiles, don't-"

"A fucking asshole, that's what! Now leave us alone!"

Jackson grabbed the front of Stiles' shirt and pulled the smaller boy closer. Just as he was pulling an arm back a booming voice echoed down the hall.

"JACKSON, STOP THAT IMMEDIATELY!"

Jackson flinched and let go of Stiles. Finstock quickly reached them and raised a finger.

"If I see either of you two fighting you'll regret it, are we clear?"

Both boys nodded, and with a grunt the teacher grabbed Jackson by an arm and proceeded to drag him down the hall.

Stiles smiled slyly and turned to Scott who eyed him closely.

"Something has happened to you. When have we ever stood up to these guys?"

Stiles shrugged.

"Well, I know a thing or two about Jackson. At least the 2012 version, and other than that kanima-thing he's really not all that scary. And he's easy to break if you know which buttons to push. But come on, we better get to it."

Scott squinted and pulled out a comb to fix the now messy duck butt.

"Oh my God, it's just like Grease!" Stiles snorted with a shake of his head.

"What?" Scott asked and stuck the sticky comb back into his pocket.

"Nothing. Come on."

-xxx-

After getting through a maze of poodle skirts they finally made it outside and Stiles' eyes widened when he noticed the cars passing in the street. If some part of him had still doubted that this was really the 50's, that part was gone now.

"Okay, now we're here, so tell me what all this is about. Is this a special werewolf place?" Scott asked with a snicker.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Uhh, I'm gonna try to get you mad to make you shift, and hopefully that'll work."

Scott raised his brows.

"How are you gonna do th-"

"I'm so sorry for this!" Stiles said apologetically before balling up his fist.

He closed his eyes right before impact but felt his hand collide harshly with Scott's unprotected abdomen.

Scott instantly bent forward and let out a pained sound.

"Ow, Stiles, you spaz..."

Stiles squinted a bit and raised his arm again.

"No," Scott squawked but it was too late.

This time Stiles' fist connected with Scott's chest, and the black haired boy collapsed to his knees, one hand pressed protectively against his ribcage.

Stiles was starting to feel a whirl of different emotions rage inside. He felt horrible for doing this to his best friend, but if he didn't succeed in getting Scott to believe him he had no idea at all how to find a way home. The panic of being stuck in this era for the rest of his life had his heart beating hard and Stiles smacked Scott on the head with an open palm.

"Come on, man, get mad!"

But Scott just raised a hand to ward off any other attacks and wheezed like a madman, his face turning more and more red.

Just as Stiles fell to his knees to support his friend when he realized that Scott was having an asthma attack, an angry voice reached both boys' ears.

"STILINSKI! GET OFF HIM. NOW!"

The teacher ran towards them with a livid expression on his face. Before giving Stiles an opportunity to say anything Finstock grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and ripped him none too gently from the ground.

"Just ten minutes ago I told you not to get in a fight!" he roared and gave Stiles a firm shake, "and now you're punching a kid with asthma!"

"H-he needs his inhaler," Stiles tried in between shakes and looked at Scott who was clutching his chest.

"Inhaler? What are you talking about, he needs to go to the nurse for an epinephrine shot."

The economics teacher called over a few girls, who gladly helped Scott up and steered him through the doors after sending Stiles some seething looks.

"I thought you two were friends," Finstock sneered and pinched Stiles' neck as he dragged him along.

"Aah, w-we are. It was just-" Stiles muttered and craned his neck to try and see if he could spot Scott further down the hall.

"Just what? What exactly do you think justifies this? We don't tolerate fighting here, you should know that by now, Stilinski!"

Stiles swallowed and felt his stomach drop. Hopefully Scott would be alright!

Finstock rapped the principal's door a few times before entering with Stiles in tow. The situation was quickly explained and the principal stared angrily at Stiles while Finstock left the room.

"What on earth were you thinking, punching your own friend. One with asthma, no less!"

Stiles eyed the floor. He couldn't possibly say anything that would help the situation, so instead he opted for staying quiet. Which he supposed was a somewhat rare thing.

Stiles was absorbed in his own thoughts and didn't hear a word that was being said, and he flinched when the principal slammed a hand down the table to get his attention.

"Do as you're told," he bellowed and raised his brows when he saw Stiles' blank stare, "If you have anything in your pockets remove it and then bend over the side of my desk."

"What?" Stiles squeaked, rather unmanly, and cleared his throat.

"Now!" the older man ordered in a deep voice and Stiles didn't dare disobey.

With his heart pounding fast he lowered himself over the sturdy table and swallowed hard. He involuntarily sucked in a breath when the principal grabbed a heavy-looking wooden paddle from the corner of the room.

"You've got five coming, so stay still and keep your hands on the desk."

Stiles heard the whack a split-second before feeling the blow to his backside. It was a deep, almost nauseating kind of pain and Stiles rocked forward from the impact.

"OW!" he cried and had no idea how to take four more.

But he didn't have much time to prepare before he heard the heavy whoosh of air once again. This time he squeezed his eyes shut and succeeded in keeping almost quiet. However the third blow had him on his toes and Stiles felt tears form in his eyes.

"Ahaow!" the boy squawked and wanted nothing more than to reach back with one of his hands to ward off the painful attack on his ass.

"Stand still, boy!" the principal ordered angrily.

Then he pulled back his arm again and let the oak-weapon fly through the air.

"Ungh, AAH-SHIIIT!" Stiles yelped when the paddle connected with his burning posterior for the fourth time.

"That's one more for swearing."

"No, please!" Stiles tried desperately and then practically collapsed on top of the desk when the last two swats fell in quick succession right where butt met thigh.

The principal allowed Stiles a minute to compose himself before he managed to get up from the table. His ass was burning, his knees jittering and Stiles was certain he would never ever sit again.

"Don't let me catch you disregard any of the rules again, Stilinski! Understood?"

"No, sir, I mean yes, sir," Stiles said and took a step toward the door.

"And obviously your parents will be notified of this episode!"

Stiles just nodded without really hearing the words and quickly slid out of the office.

Safely out in the hallway he rested his back against the wall, but jumped when his hurting skin was pressed lightly against the bricks.

"Aah-crap," he muttered to himself and sighed. Stiles had no idea how to solve the growing list of problems, but one thing he knew for sure. School in 1957 was a pain in the ass!

* * *

 **Poor Stiles. If he doesn't find trouble, trouble has a habit of finding him ;)**

 **If anyone wants "translations" of the 50's slang just let me know :)  
**

 **Reviews are much appreciated – they're like little golden nuggets of awesomeness.**

 **-RecliningHorizontally**


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles walked stiffly down the hallway, absorbed in his own thoughts. He was heading to the nurses office, eager to check on Scott. When he rounded a corner he collided with someone who came running down the corridor, and the force knocked Stiles down.

"Aarw," he hissed when he landed on the floor.

He quickly rolled over to relieve the pain in his backside and looked at the other person who was also raving around on the floor.

"Oh, hey, Isaac," Stiles said and got back on his feet with a grimace.

"Hi," Isaac said, sounding rather timid.

Stiles eyed the boy in front of him. He didn't look at all like the confident, bad boy, post-bite Isaac that Stiles knew from 2012. Instead the 1957 Isaac looked a whole lot like pre-werewolf-Isaac. A fading black eye was still slightly visible and a bruise shone on his cheek. Stiles felt a knot form in his stomach.

"Did your dad do that, Isaac?" he asked in a low voice.

Isaac sent Stiles a quick look before eyeing the floor. He had been sure nobody knew that his dad hit him. At least not more than everybody elses dads whooped them.

"I-I'm late for class, Stiles. Why are you even talking to me?"

Stiles raised a brow.

"We're friends. Sort of... Aren't we?"

Isaac blinked a few times and then shook his head lightly.

"Not really," he said, "I gotta go."

He hurried on down the hall and Stiles bit his lip. Isaac certainly didn't seem very werewolf-y, Jackson was the stupid jock he had always been, and Scott still had asthma. What if the supernatural didn't exist here? As if to prove that point, Erica suddenly came wandering down the hall. Her hair was tucked into a lifeless, sideswept ponytail and her look was mousy and uncomfortable. Stiles swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. Maybe Derek just hadn't bitten them yet! Stiles clung to that thought and told himself that he would seek out the Hales in the afternoon.

-xxx-

Scott was resting on the medical bed at the nurse's station and Stiles peeked his head around the curtain.

"Hey, bro. You okay?"

"Mm," Scott nodded weakly, "but if you try to do something like that again you'll be cruisin' for a bruisin'."

Scott coughed a bit and winced at the pain in his chest which made Stiles squint and feel the bad conscience eat away at him.

"I'm so sorry, man, this wasn't supposed to happen."

The beautiful, young nurse whipped her head around at Stiles' words and grabbed the boy unkindly by an arm.

"You did this?" she spat angrily, the brown eyes narrowing.

"Uhm, yeah, kind of. But-"  
"You should be ashamed of yourself! Asthma is no laughing matter!"

"No, I know, Jesus Christ, take it easy woman!"

The nurse tightened her grip and gave Stiles a shake.

"Do not take the name of our Lord and savior in vain!"

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Fine, sorry. Could you maybe let go?"

The nurse released her grip on Stiles and he rubbed his arm.

"I hope the principal let you know that this is completely unacceptable!"

Stiles scoffed.

"Yeah, trust me, my ass already payed the price, so just relax lady!"

The nurse turned back around with a little snort, and Scott sent Stiles a sympathetic look.

"Ouch," he said and sat up carefully.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Stiles said and extended a supporting arm when Scott slipped off the bed, "at least if I don't sit down."

Scott snickered and Stiles sent him a wry smile.

-xxx-

"So did the shot hurt?" Stiles asked when they made it down the hall.

"Yea," he said and rubbed his chest, "they give them straight to the heart, you know."

Stiles almost felt dizzy at that.

"Shit, Scott! I could have killed you! But you're alright now, right? Did she have any meds you can take so it won't happen again?"

Scott cleared his throat and felt his cheeks blush.

"She, uh, she did give me some meds right before you got there."

"Oh, well that's good then, right?"

"I guess," Scott said and scratched his neck, "I'm not a huge fan of suppositories though!"

Stiles couldn't contain a laugh and he slapped Scott's back lightly.

"Aw, sorry, man. I think I actually prefer the paddle to a sexy nurse probing my ass!"

"Me too," Scott said and felt a shiver run down his back. That had been so humiliating!

"So, wanna help me track down Derek Hale after school?" Stiles asked.

Scott slowed down a bit and looked at Stiles.

"Is it still that werewolf-thing, Stiles, cause it's really weird."

"I just... I need to talk to Derek, okay. Wanna come or not?"

"Derek Hale's really bad news, Stiles, if my parents find out that I've sought him out they'll confine me to my room for a year! And so will yours! Don't you think it's enough with detention and having to go home and tell them what happened today?"

"Them... you mean my dad?"

"Well him too, but I was actually thinking more about your mom. She dragged you all the way home last time, remember?!"

Stiles stopped walking and just looked at Scott.

"My...my mom?"

Scott nodded and pulled lightly at Stiles to get him walking again.

"Come on or we're gonna be late. The free period's almost over."

Stiles didn't say anything. His mind was only focusing on what Scott just said. His mom was there. Alive!

"I need to go home!" Stiles exclaimed and turned around.

Scott grabbed his shoulder.

"If you skip class you'll get suspended! And your mom's home anyway, she'll just get mad at you. Come on Stiles."

It took all his willpower to not just run home right then and there, but he supposed that Scott was right. They hurried to the classroom and Stiles swallowed when he looked at the wooden chairs. Wouldn't this be peachy!

-xxx-

When Stiles walked into the room marked for detention he sighed deeply. Harris was standing by the blackboard and sent Stiles a sardonic smile as he entered.

"Take a seat, Mr. Stilinski," he said sadistically and Stiles bit back a snappy retort.

The teen took a deep breath and gingerly lowered himself into a chair. Then he found his homework and settled for staring at the papers to avoid too much contact with Harris.

When the hour was almost up Harris rose from his seat and walked slowly down the room. He rapped one of the other boys on the knuckles for doodling and then went to Stiles. With exaggerated force he clapped the teen on the shoulder, pressing his sore butt down the wooden chair, and Stiles gasped involuntarily.

"Better behave in the future, Stilinski, or you won't be able to sit at all!"

Stiles kept his eyes on the table and refused to acknowledge the man by his side. With a snort and one last pat to his back Harris backed off, and Stiles nearly flew out the door.

-xxx-

He practically threw the old bike next to the garage and ran into the house.

"MOM?" Stiles yelled and scanned the living room.

He crossed through the hall and into the kitchen. And there she was! Stiles froze in his tracks and just gazed at her. It was really her. Her long, dark hair was arranged in a casual updo and she was stirring a pot, fumes spiraling slowly upwards.

Claudia turned around and left the wooden spoon sticking out of the pot. Then she took a few steps forward and raised her right hand. The slap caught Stiles completely by surprise and he winced at the instant sting in his cheek.

"Ow, mom."

She raised a finger and wagged it in front of his face.

"Your principal called. I am so disappointed in you, young man. You just wait till your father gets home!"

"Mom, you can yell at me later, I really need a hug, okay."

Claudia's eyes softened when she saw the emotional look on her son's face, and Stiles melted into her awaiting arms. He took in her scent and hugged her so hard that she almost couldn't breathe. Claudia huffed a little and stroked his back.

"You're smothering me, Stiles. Are you alright?"

Stiles felt the tears prickle his eyes and he swallowed against the lump in his throat.

"I just love you so much, mom!"

She smiled and rested her hand around the back of his neck.

"And I love you too, baby. More than you'll ever know."

* * *

 **D'awwww, a little fluff and love for Stiles in the end :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N1: I usually wouldn't do this, but I feel a need to reply to the few rather aggressively negative guest reviewers. You are all entitled to your own opinions and I'm fine with you not liking my stuff, but for crying out loud; grow a pair and log into an account so I can reply to you personally instead of here!**

 **The fact that Stiles didn't hit the principal back seems to get a rise out of you, but I disagree that he would do that. Stiles is smart and would know and understand that punching a grown man (wielding a freaking paddle!) would most likely get him arrested and thrown in jail, which would in turn make it damn near impossible to get back to 2012.**

 **Had this story been set in 2012 the principal would have been doing something illegal and Stiles would never have submitted to it, imo. I think he would have walked away after making some smart ass comment. If a teen took a swing at him, yes, Stiles would probably hit him back, and rightfully so, but teachers and parents smacking the bejesus out of you in 1957 is a different story.**

 **A/N2: To all you awesome people leaving great (guest) reviews, thank you so much. I'm glad you like the story so far, and keep those reviews coming, haha, they make my day :)**

* * *

Stiles stole a glance at his mom when he helped set the table. A warmth blossomed from deep within him and he suddenly felt like crying. The thought of ever losing her all over again made him sniffle and Claudia looked at her son.

"Are you crying?"

Stiles shook his head.

"Nah, my butt just bumped into something," he said and cleared his throat.

"Well, that serves you right," his mom said sternly, "if you ever hit Scott again and cause and attack like the one he had today I'll wallop you myself!"

Stiles let out a little snort at the thought of his rather petite mother whooping him, and instead tried focusing on placing the forks and knives on the table.

"You're doing it wrong," Claudia fussed and rearranged the cutlery.

Before placing the last fork she flipped it around and thumped Stiles on the head while sending him a warm smile.

"Do you have to tell dad?" Stiles asked, "I mean, nothing really bad happened and he'll just go completely mental."

"Mental? What does that mean?"

"You know, lose his shi-get really mad," Stiles quickly changed his words when he saw the horror in his mother's eyes.

"Stiles," Claudia said and tilted her head a little, "you know your dad and I don't keep secrets from one another. I have to tell him."

Stiles sighed and turned his head as the front door opened.

"Honey, I'm home," a voice called from the hall and Claudia raised a brow at Stiles, as if preparing him for the coming outburst of anger.

-xxx-

"Get your elbows off the table, Stiles," his mother scolded gently, and Stiles removed his arms with a little grunt.

"So, how was school today, son?" his dad asked and Stiles nearly dropped his fork, "did you make it in time?"

"Uh, almost..."

"Hmm," the sheriff huffed, "and what did Mr. Harris think about that? Wasn't this the third time you were late in just a few weeks?"

John stared hard at Stiles, who squirmed a little in his seat.

"Yeah, apparently," he said with a little eye roll, "he-uh-wasn't too happy, I guess. But you know, he's Harris, so when is he ever happy?!"

"He values punctuality and discipline, Stiles, and so should you!"

Stiles didn't say anything, but just looked down.

"How was your day, darling?" John then asked Claudia and Stiles gulped down a huge sip of water.

"It was quite nice, dear," she answered and wiped her mouth with a napkin, "at least until I received a phone call from the principal."

John raised a brow and slowly lowered his fork before shifting his eyes back to Stiles.

"Anything you want to tell me?"

"I-uh..."

"The principal called to let us know that our son had gotten detention for disrupting class, again one might add, and then later received a paddling for punching Scott McCall so hard he had an asthma attack!"

Stiles glanced at his dad, whose face was turning redder by the second.

"Dad relax, I can expla-"  
"Well I would love to hear that, Stiles. Now!" John growled.

"I know, just take it easy."

Stiles sent his dad a quick look and sucked in his lip when he saw the anger looming in his eyes.

His 2012-dad could be a real hard-ass on him, and Stiles had no doubt in his mind that a 1950's-version of Sheriff Stilinski wasn't exactly more laissez-faire. The occasional neck-pinch or smack to the head in 2012 probably didn't cut it here in 1957, and Stiles swallowed at the mere thought.

"I needed Scott's help with something really important, and-uh..." Stiles didn't really know how to go on.

"So you punched him?"

"No, not- well yes, but it wasn't like it was supposed to give him an asthma attack! I just needed him to get angry so he could help me..."

John massaged the spot between his eyes and sighed deeply.

"You're not making a lick of sense here, Stiles. I am getting VERY tired of these shenanigans that you've been pulling lately, and I felt certain that there wasn't going to be any more trouble with you after our last, little chat!" John rumbled and air-quoted the last word.

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up at what his father was implying and looked down.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled and felt his heart beating.

Constantly being unsure of how the people around him would react was wearing on him, and Stiles ran a hand through his hair.

"You should be," Claudia said and sent Stiles a stern glare, "since when has it been alright to hit your best friend? Or constantly be late for class? Or steal your father's police car?"

Stiles looked up.

"Your car?" he muttered to himself.

"Yes, my car, Stiles," John growled angrily, "don't tell me our conversation from that evening has already slipped your mind."

"Uh-no?" Stiles said in a low voice and drew out the "no".

"What did I promise you that night?"

Stiles sucked in a breath and furrowed his brows.

"Uhh..."

"ANSWER ME, STILES!" the sheriff practically yelled and slapped a hand down the table.

"That-uh, that I wouldn't-" Stiles fumbled for the words and tried reading the look on his father's face, "that I wouldn't like what would happen, uh, if I got in trouble again?"

The sheriff narrowed his eyes and took a sip of water.

"Close enough," he hissed and Stiles let out a puff of air, "after dinner we're going to the study to take care of this!" John continued and pointed a long finger at his son.

Stiles felt his heart pound like crazy, and all of a sudden he wasn't the least bit hungry despite this being the tastiest homemade meal he had had in years!

-xxx-

Stiles gulped when his dad grabbed him determinedly by the arm and started dragging him towards the study.

"Dad, please, I'm waaay too old for this!"

The sheriff stopped in his tracks and sent Stiles a confused look.

"Stiles, it's merely been three weeks, you haven't exactly aged a whole lot in that peroid of time."

"Oh," was all that Stiles could muster and wanted nothing more than to rip free and flee the house.

"Besides," John said, "the rule has always been, and will continue to be, that when you get in trouble at school you get in trouble at home!"

That one wasn't new and definitely still existed i 2012, Stiles mused, just not in quite as physical a way!

The study looked almost like itself and Stiles briefly shut his eyes when John closed the door. They could hear Claudia rummaging around in the kitchen and Stiles sent his father a begging look.

"Please don't do this, dad," he said in a small voice when the sheriff started taking off his belt.

John didn't say anything but sent his son a grave look that made Stiles lick his lips nervously.

"Turn around, Stiles," the sheriff ordered and felt a surge of anger when the teen just kept looking at him," NOW!"

"Seriously, dad, my ass can't take anymore! Can't you just yell at me?"

"We're past yelling here, Stiles! You hit your best friend, you were late for school, AGAIN, and your language is running amok! Now, bend over the desk."

But Stiles couldn't get himself to actually do it. It had been one thing with the principal, but having your dad about to whoop your ass at his age made Stiles blush and freeze up. John took a long step to his son and grabbed him around the neck. With the well-known pinch he pushed him forward and Stiles nearly stumbled. He grabbed the table for support and swallowed when he sensed his dad pull back his arm.

Then he heard the whoosh of air and Stiles grimaced when the leather struck his skin with a loud CRACK.

"Ah, FUCK!" he yelped and jumped.

"Watch your mouth!" John hissed and swallowed. It wasn't like he enjoyed this, and usually Stiles was rather stoic and took his punishment without making a fuss, making the whole thing a little easier for his dad.

Just as the sheriff was talking himself into landing another branding lick, the door opened and Claudia grabbed her husband around the forearm before he struck Stiles again.

"John, there's been another murder," she said in a shaky voice, "they need you at the station immediately!"

Stiles whipped around at his mother's words and registered the fear in her eyes.

"Who's been killed?" he asked and winced when he brushed a hand carefully across his sore backside.

"That doesn't concern you, Stiles," John said and quickly put on his belt before reaching for his gun and holster.

Then he kissed Claudia on the cheek and sent Stiles a stern but caring look.

"You behave from now on, son, or your butt won't like you at all!"

Stiles blushed and gave a nod with his eyes averted.

-xxx-

Stiles waited a while before excusing himself to his room, using homework as a cover to be alone. Then he arranged his bed so it looked like he was huddled up under the duvet and quickly opened his window. With a sigh he grabbed the downspout and started his descent. Murders in Beacon Hills were rarely normal and if something supernatural was roaming the town Stiles wanted to know what, or rather who, it was!

* * *

 **Anyone think they can guess who is dead? :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So sorry for the long wait – I'm back in college and have lots of studying to do, so my writing is sort of suffering at the moment. Hope everyone's still on board, though :)**

* * *

Stiles huddled over when a car passed slowly down the street. He winced at the pain the movement caused but kept biking and when the car was gone sped up considerably.

The McCall residence looked just like it used to and Stiles went to the back of the house. He grabbed a few pebbles and threw them at Scott's window.

"Scott!" he hissed and waved when his friend looked to see where the pebbles had come from.

Scott quickly opened the window and raised a brow.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" he asked in a somewhat hushed voice.

"There's been a murder!"

"Yeah, I know, my dad left a while ago..."

Stiles swallowed his spit. It had been a long while since he had had any contact with Rafe McCall and Stiles let out an annoyed huff at the possibility of running into that guy here!

"Well, come on, we need to hurry to get there before they remove the body!"

"What? Stiles are you crazy? My dad will flay us if we get caught!"

"Yeah, well, we'll have to risk it, come on."

Scott licked his lips and looked to be contemplating the situation. Then he sighed and started to crawl out of the window.

The boys grabbed their bikes and took off down the street.

"How do you know where we're going?" Scott asked and sent Stiles a sideways glare.

"This is Beacon Hills, Scott. Murders usually happen either out in the reserve or at the high school. Let's just hope our first destination is the right one!"

-xxx-

A cold wind was making the leaves rustle on the ground and Scott shivered. He swallowed and didn't look too happy about the situation. Scott quickly turned his head when voices reaches him and he sent Stiles a glance.

Stiles tucked at Scott's sleeve and they both crouched down before Stiles craned his neck to look over the top of the hill.

"Holy shit!" he gasped and looked at Scott, before swallowing a few times.

"What is it?" Scott whispered.

Both boys peeked over the ridge and Scott gaped at the sight.

A body was dangling from a tree, hands tied behind the back and a noose around the dark neck.

"Whoa," Scott said quietly and wiped a hand over his forehead.

"Yeah," Stiles sighed and felt his insides jitter from the excitement and disgust.

Cops were swarming the place and both Rafe McCall and the Sheriff were at the scene.

"Looks like another lynching," the FBI agent stated and sent the body a quick look.

"Mm," the Sheriff grunted, "maybe... I'm not too sure, though, something feels off."

John walked to the front of the dangling body and studied it. He called over a deputy and gesticulated for him to bring something.

"What are they saying?!" Stiles huffed and crawled a little closer to the eerie scenario.

"No, Stiles, be careful..." Scott squeaked and cursed before moving to his best friend.

When they looked again the body was being removed from the tree and placed on the ground. Scott felt his stomach churn at the sight and an acetic taste filled his mouth.

The Sheriff squatted down and pointed at the now freed arm.

"Look. This is different from the other cases. Way too much blood running down the hand to just be from a struggle."

"What are you talking about, Stilinski?" Rafe asked in a somewhat annoyed voice.

The Sheriff raised a brow at the tall man and carefully rolled up the sleeve on the body. A collective round of "Ohs" escaped all of the gathered people and Stiles cursed.

"I can't see a damn thing! We need to get closer."

"No!" Scott objected and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, "they'll catch us if we move again."

Stiles bit his lip and with a sigh seemed to decide that Scott was right. Instead he turned his focus back onto the people down at the little grove.

"Is that a-a pentagram carved into his arm?" a young, and somewhat nervous, deputy asked.

"Sure looks like it!" the Sheriff answered and looked up at Rafe, "still think it's "just" another lynching?"

The FBI agent didn't say anything but appeared to be contemplating something.

"Can't we leave now, Stiles?" Scott asked in a shaky voice.

He wasn't enjoying the whole pentagram-sliced-into-arm-thing and feared he would vomit.

"Yeah, in a minute. I just-..."

"Just what?"

Scott looked at his friend who had frozen completely mid-sentence.

"Oh my God!" Stiles croaked and paled significantly.

He was looking at the scene, eyes fixed on the body that was now visible to the boys.

"I know him. It's Boyd!"

Stiles gulped in a breath and turned around. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, but the image stayed in his mind, forever etched there. Boyd lying on the ground, one arm bleeding from a deep cut, both eyes bulging and staring up into nothingness while the tongue had swollen and was protruding slightly at the corner of the mouth.

Suddenly it all became too much and Stiles felt his stomach do a flip. Before even realizing what was happening he fell to his hands and knees and emptied the contents of his stomach all over the ground with a pitiful, loud gurgle.

"What the hell was that?!" both boys heard the FBI agent ask and they sent each other a look of panic.

"Time to move!" Stiles said and spat in disgust.

Scott just nodded and they immediately started running.

"Somebody's up there!" Rafe yelled, and within seconds several pairs of feet were moving towards the boys.

They fled the scene as quietly as they could, but twigs were snapping under their feet and suddenly Stiles disappeared from Scott's field of vision.

"Ow, shit!" Stiles exclaimed when he collided roughly with the ground.

"Come on, get up!" Scott hissed and extended a hand to help Stiles get back on his feet.

They were just starting to move again when Stiles froze in his tracks.

"Scott," he whisper-yelled and grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt to stop him, "someone's here!"

Scott's eyes grew wide and he felt his pulse accelerate. Through the trees the boys could see a hooded figure looming creepily. The person was big and seemed to look straight at them. Long locks of hair were sticking out from under the hood and Stiles swallowed hard. His heart was pounding and he felt like vomiting again.

"Fuck!" he squawked and fisted his hand in the fabric of Scott's shirt.

The large person suddenly took a long step towards the boys, making them both shrink back.

"You should forget what you've seen here tonight!" a hoarse voice rasped and the figure raised a hand towards the boys.

"WHO'S THERE?!" an angry voice boomed and both Scott, Stiles and the unknown person looked in the direction of the sound.

"They're coming!" Scott hissed, "what are we gonna do?!"

Stiles didn't say anything. He seemed to have temporarily lost his ability to talk and Scott pulled at his arm.

"Stiles!"

The hooded figure raised both hands towards the boys and let out a string of strange words. Then an icy blue radiated from deep within the hood and Stiles let out an involuntary, mousy peep.

"Fuck!"

He took a quick step back when Scott pulled at his arm again. Just a few yards away the first deputies were showing through the trees and Scott was feeling the panic coursing through him. Stiles knew they needed to move and he threw a look towards the figure. But the hooded mystery-person had disappeared without a trace and the two teens immediately took off again.

-xxx-

Scott gave a loud sigh of relief when he spotted their bikes lying by the fence at the entrance to the reserve.

"What the hell was that thing?" he hissed when they started pedaling.

Stiles raised a brow at him and blew out a breath.

"That was a witch, Scott. One with the same eyes as the one who sent me here!"

Scott didn't say anything at first. When they made it to the border of town he looked at Stiles again.

"You're actually serious about this?"

Stiles just threw him a glare.

"Yea, I'm serious, Scott. Do you believe me now?"

Scott sucked in his lower lip and followed a driving car with his eyes.

"I... I guess. But how is this even possible?"

"...I don't know. But I have to talk to Derek tomorrow, maybe he can tell me something new."

"Maybe. But Stiles, be careful, alright, the Hales are dangerous!"

-xxx-

Stiles carefully slid from the windowsill and landed with a muffled thud on the floor in his dark room. He quickly took off the muddy shoes and toppled over onto the soft bed. He was sweaty, but freezing, and a million thoughts were racing through his head.

Stiles yawned and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Everything was a mess, but hopefully talking to Derek would solve at least some of his problems. He was just about to crawl under the covers when the lights were suddenly turned on, the brightness making him squint.

Stiles sucked in a breath and felt his heart sink when he looked up to see his very angry mother standing by the door with her arms crossed and a scowl on her pretty face.

"You have better have a great explanation as to where you have been for the last hour and a half, young man!"

Stiles' brain was working overtime to come up with something useful. Just anything, really. After a few seconds of silence he opened his mouth.

"Umm..." was all that left him and he rolled his eyes at himself in annoyance.

"I'm waiting!" Claudia said sternly, "And if I were you I'd start talking. Now!"


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so sorry for not getting back individually to the reviewers this time. Life has been chaotic with sickness and death in the family so my attention has been elsewhere. But I want you to know that I appreciate every single review I get – feedback is awesome!**

 **Warning: A handful of racist remarks in this chapter (in no way do they represent my own opinions or what I think is okay to call other people).**

 **Now, back to the story :) I hope you'll all enjoy.**

* * *

"Stiles, I mean it!" Claudia said and raised a brow at her son. She shifted to lean against the door frame, and Stiles swallowed when he noticed a spoon sticking out of his mom's pocket.

"Right," the teen croaked and eyed the kitchen utensil warily, "uh, I was... it's really not an interesting story, mom, I was just-"

"Get to the point, young man, I'm waiting."

"...Uh, okay. When you said that there had been a murder I had to go check on something. I neede-"

"You didn't "need" to do anything, Stiles. A murderer is loose in town and you are just a boy, you have no business running around at night at all! Du you understand me?"

Stiles gave a weak nod, slightly abashed by the whole boy-thing; he was almost an adult for crying out loud!

Claudia took a step towards the bed, making Stiles shrink back a little.

"Where did you go, Stiles? And I promise you that if I hear that you and Scott have been sticking your noses into police matters again you won't be sitting comfortably for a while, you hear!"

Stiles scratched his head and swallowed a few times. Well, shit.

"No, no, no, it was nothing like that," he lied, "I was... I went to check on... on a girl."

Claudia sent Stiles a quick look.

"A girl?" she said and went to sit on the bed next to her son.

Her expression had softened slightly, and Stiles was torn between relief and guilt about lying straight to his mother's face.

"Yeah," he continued, "Lydia. We go to school together."

"Are you two-"

"No. She's got a boyfriend," Stiles added, "but he's a complete asshole, and I-ah!"

Stiles rubbed at the back of his head where Claudia had landed a light smack.

"Language!" she scolded, but didn't seem too upset.

"Sorry. But he really is a jerk, mom, and she deserves so much better. And I just want her to be safe."

Claudia pinched her lips and sighed.

"As valiant as that is, you were not supposed to be anywhere but your room tonight, Stiles."

"But Lydia-"

"Apparently already has a boyfriend-"

"Who's an ass!"

Claudia demonstratively cleared her throat.

"Be that as it may, I don't want you running off to check on anyone when a murderer is out there, Stiles. And by the way, we do have a telephone. You could have just called her!"

The teen raised his gaze and sent his mother his best puppy eyes, complete with a slight pout. It would have never worked on his dad but Claudia almost "aw'ed" at the sight, and even though she knew that she shouldn't let him off the hook those hazel eyes always melted her heart.

"Alright, Stiles, I'll forgive you for this one, but if you ever do something like this again..."

She let her last words linger and her eyes wandered to the muddy shoes on the floor. Claudia frowned.

"Stiles," she sighed sternly, "take those dirty shoes downstairs right now. And then it's back to bed, mister!"

Stiles gave a small grunt but got off the bed and bent forward to grab his shoes. He yipped and jumped when the wooden spoon caught him right on his rump, and Stiles spun around to face his mother.

"What?" he shot, rather indignantly, and rubbed a hand across the buzzing spot, "what was that for?"

"Look at you," Claudia huffed and eyed the teen up and down, "your trousers are almost as muddy as your shoes, and now you'll need new sheets on the bed on top of a shower."

Stiles smiled at the motherly fuzzing and felt his heart swell. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Claudia.

"I love you, mom," he mumbled into her hair and grabbed his shoes before turning towards the door, "especially if you won't tell dad about this."

Claudia rolled her eyes and let out a small snicker.

"I love you too, Stiles. And just for once I'll keep this from your father. His blood pressure would skyrocket if he found out, and honestly I can't take anymore drama for one night."

-xxx-

Stiles stretched and let out a yawn before he curled up on his side and buried himself under the duvet. The sheets smelled faintly like lavender and a sudden sense of conflict filled the teen. He would do everything in his power to get back to 2012 – his "real" friends and family were there, and who knew what that witch was doing. But here in 1957 he had something else entirely. Something he had never thought possible. And the thought of leaving Claudia and never seeing her again sent a jolt of pain through Stiles' heart.

Then the violent image of Boyd flashed before his eyes, the dead eyes staring up into nothingness and the tongue swollen in the mouth. Stiles gasped slightly and tucked the duvet closer to his chin. Tomorrow he would seek out the Hales.

-xxx-

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief when the bell finally rang. He had been jumpy all day, trying his best to stay out of trouble. He was not at all in the mood for detention or another firm meeting with that damned paddle, and if he was to stand any chance to actually find Derek or Peter that day, he couldn't afford anything getting in his way.

He quickly gathered his books and got up from his seat. When Stiles was leaving the classroom he felt someone tugging on his shirt and sent a look over his shoulder.

"Scott, you can't talk me out of this, okay," Stiles sighed and looked at his best friend.

The black haired boy shook his head.

"I know, Stiles. I... I'm coming with you. I don't think going to the Hales on your own is such a great idea."

"You don't have to come, Scott. You said yourself that your dad will kill you if he finds out!"

"Yeah, but I can't let you go alone. What if that thing from yesterday will show up, or what if Derek punches your face in or-"

"Fine, just come along," Stiles said with a grin and patted Scott on the back.

They hurried down the hall and slammed open the door. The bright light made them squint their eyes a bit and Stiles ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, so I guess we'll start with their house?"

Scott nodded.

"Yea, let's do that."

They went to grab their bikes but just as Scott was getting on, a voice sounded from behind them.

"Too bad it wasn't you swinging by the end of that rope yesterday, wetback!"

Jackson was clearly looking for trouble and Stiles sent Scott a quick look. He had frozen on the spot, all the color quickly draining from his face. Scott thought of the dead body he had seen last night, wishing he could erase the haunting image from his mind. He would never wish a fate like Boyd's on anybody.

"Heard it was just some nigger," Jackson's friend rasped and spat on the ground.

Stiles' head whipped up when he heard the ugly word and he took a step towards the three bigger boys.

"Shut your fucking mouth, you moronic nitwit!" Stiles hissed and pushed the guy harshly in the chest, "I knew that guy!".

The big guy stumbled a few steps back, but let out a snicker.

Jackson curled his lip up in a snarl and grabbed Stiles by the front of his shirt.

"You're the one who needs to learn when to shut up, Stilinski!"

The big goons flanking Jackson both laughed and one of them raised a brow while sending Stiles a condescending look.

"Ooh, someone's getting a mouthful of knuckle sandwiches!"

"You're a right nigger-lover, aren't you Stilinski, spending all your time with black folks and this piece of trash!"

Stiles writhed in Jackson's grasp and his cheeks were flushed a deep pink. Once again his mind showed him Boyd's dead eyes and he swallowed hard, continuously trying to free himself.

"Fuck off!" Stiles huffed and raised his arm just in time to block a punch.

The attempt caused Jackson to lose his hold on Stiles and the smaller boy quickly took a step back. Scott had dropped his bike and balled up his fists.

"What have I ever done to you, Jackson? Just leave us alone!"

"Why don't you go cry to your mother, McCall, I'll do whatever the hell I want!"

Scott felt a dark, red anger boil deep within him and he huffed loudly.

"Yea, maybe it's time someone did something about that!"

Scott took a few quick steps forward and raised his arm. But before he could plant his fist in Jackson's mouth one of the goons stepped in front of him. He probably assumed that Scott would back off because of his massive frame, but that didn't happen. Scott sucked in a breath and then let his fist connect with the other boy's chin.

Stiles sent Scott a quick glance as the big guy fell down and then quickly pulled his friend out of Jackson's reach. Before realizing what was happening Stiles found himself on the ground, his cheekbone hurting from the punch that had hit him instead of Scott.

"Aarh," he groaned and moved to get up.

The goon still on his feet grabbed Scott by the shoulder and swiftly clocked him clean in the mouth, sending him reeling backwards.

"You're in way over your head here," he rasped and moved to sit over Scott so he could punch him again. Scott let out a groan of pain and held up his hands protectively.

At the same time as Jackson moved forward Stiles got all the way up and used his momentum to let his arm fly forward. With the other hand he grabbed his forearm and used all his power to swing his elbow towards his target. He hit Jackson right on the nose and a squeal of pain followed a sickening crunch and a spray of blood.

"Holy shit!" Stiles mumbled, adrenaline coursing through him.

Jackson collapsed to the ground, both hands cupping his severely bleeding nose. Tears were streaming down his face and he sent Stiles a shocked glance.

"U bwoke ma nothe!" he cried.

Jackson's outcry made his friend turn around in surprise, and Scott quickly took advantage of the situation and pushed him off.

"If I ever hear you use the n-word again I'll knock your teeth in as well," Stiles spat and looked angrily at Jackson.

Then he turned to Scott and held out his hand. Scott was quick to grab it and after briefly checking their injuries they finally got on their bikes.

-xxx-

They left their bikes in the woods, pretty close to the house, and went the last way on foot.

"What are you gonna say?" Scott asked and winced a little when talking made his mouth hurt again.

Stiles shrugged.

"Not sure. I guess I'll just wing it."

The boys went closer to the Hale house, Scott clearly not enjoying the little trip to the woods. Stiles went up the steps to the porch and gave the door a firm knock. He let out a curse when no one opened, and then went to the back of the house with Scott following suit.

Stiles peeked in through a window but didn't see anyone inside.

"Where are they?" he asked, mostly to himself, and turned around when he heard Scott squeak.

"What the hell are you two rascals doing here?" Peter asked firmly and tightened his grip on the back of Scott's hair.

"Ow," Scott squawked and narrowed his eyes.

"Take it easy, Peter," Stiles said and held out his hands, "I'm just here to talk to you or Derek."

"How do you know my name?"

"What? Oh, uh, well who doesn't know the legendary Peter Hale, right," Stiles tried with a slight stutter.

Peter Hale was not and would never be his favorite person!

"You're the sheriffs kid, aren't you? Got a few possible uses for you, boy!"

Stiles swallowed.

"No, hey look, I just need some advice on the supernatural, okay," he said quickly, "I'm not really supposed to be here and I need to get back to where I belong."

Peter sent him a suspicious look.

"Supernatural?" he said carefully and eyed the teen in front of him.

"I need some info about witches. And as a big-ass werewolf you should be able to fill me in, right."

Peter snarled shortly and let go of Scott. He took a quick, long step towards Stiles and pinned the boy to the wall with a big hand around his throat.

"Oorph," Stiles huffed when he was pushed back.

"How do you know about werewolves? There are no other supernatural families residing in Beacon Hills at the moment."

"Let's just say I know a lot of things. But I need to know about witches with icy blue eyes."

"Witches are not my specialty," Peter said with a shrug.

"Then I need to talk to Derek. Where is he?"

"Down at the shop, I'd imagine," Peter said and tightened his grip on Stiles,"if you tell anyone about the Hales and our little secret, mommy and daddy might get a visit, do we understand each other?"

Peter snapped his claws out and casually drew one of them across the tender skin on Stiles' neck. The teen swallowed violently before nodding his head vigorously and then pushed Peter's hand off his throat. The man turned to Scott who flinched at the sudden movement.

"And that goes for you too!"

"Yes, sir!" Scott yipped.

"Alright, then get the hell off this property. Now!"

Scott and Stiles practically flew down the dirt road towards their bikes. They quickly took off and Stiles looked at Scott.

"So, where's the shop? And what kind of shop are we talking about?"

"It's all the way across town and it's an auto shop."

"Of course it is," Stiles mused and let out a snort. Somehow he wasn't at all surprised that 50's-Derek was a grease monkey, and he shook his head lightly.

"Okay, let's go, it's a long drive."

The boys drove too fast to notice the black car that was parked behind a few trees at the end of the Hale driveway, but the two men in the car certainly saw the boys.

"Who's that?" the guy in the passenger's seat asked.

There was a loud sigh and the driver cleared his throat.

"That's my son and his idiot friend," agent McCall said, "and they've got a lot of explaining to do!"

* * *

 **Well, these boys just can't catch a break, it seems. I actually intended for the chapter to end at the auto shop, but this seemed as a great place to cut it off.**

 **Feel more than welcome to leave your thoughts in a review :)**

 **Happy holidays to those who celebrate and yippie kay yay to all of you glorious people :D**

 **-RecliningHorizontally**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews, favs and follows – I truly appreciate them all :)**

 **And once again, sorry for the long wait!**

 **Same warnings as always, and please proceed with caution if corporal punishment isn't your thing (if you don't want to read that part skip the last section).**

* * *

Scott blew out a breath when they finally reached the auto shop. They got off their bikes and Stiles ran a hand through his messy hair. Thoughts were whirling in his head, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with the situation. Peter had always been ill tempered, but Derek could be completely unpredictable, and Stiles had no idea what would happen.

The boys looked at each other before entering the door. A bell chimed as they went in, rock and roll was blaring from the small radio and the shop smelled like motor oil.

"Just a minute," a voice called from out back and Stiles could sense Scott tensing next to him.

"It's gonna be alright, Scott, just relax."

The black haired boy sent Stiles a sideways glare and straightened up a bit when Derek entered the room.

Stiles eyed Derek somewhat warily as he strode into the room, and couldn't help the little smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Everything from the slick black hair to the dirty wife-beater to the red handkerchief in his back pocket screamed 50's-cliché.

"What are you kids doing here?" Derek shot, already sounding rather annoyed, "I doubt you're having car troubles, you still look wet behind your ears."

Stiles huffed slightly at that and took a step forward.

"Really insightful," he said, a sarcastic edge to his voice, "but yeah, we're not here for car trouble. We-I need your help with..."

Stiles paused and took a deep breath. At the moment he couldn't really think of a smooth way to bring up the supernatural.

"I... I need your help with a blue eyed witch-"

Stiles felt himself being slammed against the back wall of the room so fast that he didn't even have time to blink.

"Ungh," he groaned and swallowed hard, "Derek, ease up, man!"

"Why would I know anything about witches?" Derek growled and gave Stiles another push, "and how do you know my name?!".

"I am a friend, okay. I know this sounds crazy, but I'm from another time; a witch sent me here. Back in my time the witch was out to kill you, so I figured you might know something. Anything would be helpful, really, I need to go back..."

Derek squinted his eyes and prodded a finger hard into Stiles' chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about, kid, but you shouldn't go around chatting about this magic mumbo jumbo."

Scott sent Derek a somewhat apprehensive look.

"Why would he seek out someone like you if he didn't have a reason? Your family doesn't exactly have the best reputation in town."

Derek tilted his head slightly and looked at Scott.

"So the other one talks as well!"

He let go of Stiles, who straightened his shirt with a short huff, and took a step towards Scott.

"Be careful what you say about my family," Derek growled in a low voice and sent Scott a sinister look.

Scott visibly gulped.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"Derek, I really do need your help," Stiles cut in and raised an eyebrow.

The older guy turned back towards Stiles and crossed his arms.

"Why exactly do you think I would know anything about witches?"

"Well, maybe because of the whole werewolf-thing," Stiles said and cocked a brow at Derek, "maybe your knowledge of the supernatural world... take your pick, big guy."

Derek's eyes had started glowing slightly when Stiles mentioned him being a werewolf, but the yellow gleam faded almost instantly.

"Okay, so let's say I choose to believe you. I can't exactly talk about this here at broad daylight. I'll come find you tonight."

"But I really need this to be quick," Stiles tried in an annoyed voice, "now's not the time to be a scared puppy."

Derek's eyes glowed again and he forcefully pinned Stiles against the wall once more. Then he bared his teeth with a low hiss.

"Or I can wait. That totally works too!" Stiles squawked and blinked furiously, "Perfectly fine with waiting-"

Stiles was interrupted when the door slammed open and both he and Scott turned their heads to see who was entering.

"Shit!" Stiles hissed through his teeth.

Derek patted Stiles heavily on the shoulder and let the teen step away from the wall. Then he held out his arms and sent the men who had entered a fake smile.

"Gentlemen, to what do I owe this honor?"

"Can it, Hale," one of the agents grumbled, "we have a few questions."

"Hmm. This is getting old. What's it about this time?" Derek asked and narrowed his eyes.

"Drop that attitude, kid, or we'll ask the questions down at the station!"

Stiles couldn't contain a small snicker. This had got to be the first time he had heard someone call Derek a kid.

"You have nothing to laugh about, Stilinski!" agent McCall said dryly and fixed the teen with a stern glare, "I have some questions for you two as well!"

"Dad, I can explain-" Scott started feebly, but Rafe just held up his hand, effectively shutting Scott up.

"Larson, why don't you go talk to Mr. Hale in the shop's office and I'll escort these two outside."

Stiles and Scott both sent Derek a quick look when he turned to enter the small office along with the agent. Stiles raised his brows slightly in an asking manner and Derek nodded almost imperceptibly.

Agent McCall grabbed both teens by an arm and started dragging them outside.

"I can walk by myself, you know," Stiles shot flippantly and tried pulling free, "I was born with legs for that exact reason!"

Rafe snorted and tightened his grip on Stiles.

"I doubt you'll be this cocky when your parents learn that you're spending your afternoon in the company of criminals!"

"Dad, please," Scott said in a slightly shaking voice, "we haven't done anything wrong."

The tall man let go of the boys at that comment. He turned to look at his son, an angry scowl on his face.

"Haven't done anything wrong! How many times have I told you to stay away from Derek Hale and his family, huh?!"

"I-"

"When I tell you to do something I expect you to follow orders, Scott! I will not accept that my son becomes a criminal!"

"Dad," Scott tried, "I won't. You're overreacting."

Rafe blew out a breath and narrowed his eyes.

"Overreacting, huh! I saw you two out by the Hale residence earlier. What were you doing out there?"

Scott and Stiles sent each other a worried glance. Well, shit!

"I said, what were you doing out there!" Rafe growled loudly, his tone of voice dangerous and angry.

"Uh, nothing," Scott mumbled and winced when his dad smacked him harshly across the cheek.

Stiles flinched when the slap caught Scott and he looked up at the tall man.

"Hey!" he exclaimed and felt his dislike for Scott's dad multiply by a thousand.

"Don't lie to me, Scott!" Rafe hissed and grabbed Scott by the scruff of the neck, "why were you out there?"

Scott squinted his eyes from the tight grip his dad had on him and huffed.

"I-"

"You better open your mouth now, boy, or I'll tan your hide right here!"

Scott opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water and grunted in pain when Rafe tightened his grip around Scott's neck.

"Hey!" Stiles repeated angrily and grabbed Rafe's arm, "let go of h-arh!"

Stiles reflexively pulled his shoulders up when the slap hit him on his already sore cheek and he took a small step back. He quickly rubbed the back of his hand carefully across the red spot to get the stinging feeling out of it and Scott sent his friend an apologetic look. Stiles licked his lips and raised his eyes to look at agent McCall again.

"You do not get a say in when and where I choose to discipline my son, _Stiles_ , and unless you want another one you keep your hands off me! Are we clear?"

Stiles gave a faint nod and felt his heart pound in his chest.

"It was my fault, okay," he said then, "I talked Scott into coming with me to the Hale house."

-xxx-

There had been questions and yelling but Rafe hadn't been able to get a satisfying answer out of neither Scott nor Stiles and he was breathing heavily, unable to mask his anger.

He was just starting up another round of questions when agent Larson finally exited the auto shop. The presence of his colleague made Rafe quiet down a bit and with one last seething look at the boys he grabbed them by their shirt collars and propelled them towards the car.

"So, what were you boys doing out at the Hale residence?" Larson drawled as Rafe started up the engine.

Scott looked at Stiles and shrugged. They would eventually have to come up with something that sounded plausible if they were ever going to make the agents stop pestering them.

"We just heard a rumor that Bigfoot had been spotted in the area and, you know, who would pass up an opportunity to see that thing?"

Larson blew out a breath at Stiles' words.

"If you value your ability to sit you're going to tell me exactly what you were doing in the woods when we get home, Scott. And I want the truth!"

"The whole truth, and nothing but the truth," Stiles added with a mutter and rolled his eyes.

"Quite a mouth on this one," agent Larson grunted and Rafe huffed.

"You have no idea!"

-xxx-

Rafe grabbed Stiles unkindly by an arm to more or less yank him out of the car and then shifted his grip to the back of the teen's neck. Then he pushed him forwards up the driveway and Stiles swallowed hard.

Claudia was the one to open the door, and her eyebrows shot upwards when she saw agent McCall holding Stiles by the scruff of his neck.

"Jooohn!" she called, and the Sheriff showed up at the door a few moments later.

He let out a dissatisfied sigh when he spotted his son.

"We spotted Stiles and Scott out at the Hale residence," Rafe explained, "and then ran into them at the Hale auto shop as well. I haven't been able to get a straight answer about what they were up to, but maybe you'll have more luck! Our boys should have no business with criminals – especially with a murderer loose in town!"

John nodded, clearly agreeing with agent McCall when it came to this.

"Thank you," he said in somewhat tired voice, "I'll take it from here."

-xxx-

Stiles sucked in a breath when the door closed behind him and he looked from his mom to his dad. Claudia had crossed her arms, disappointment seeping from her, and John pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have better have a darn good explanation, Stiles!" he rumbled, "I have just about had it."

"Dad-" Stiles tried, but John cut him off.

"Don't "dad" me, Stiles, this is serious. You cuss, you're late for class and now you socialize with Derek Hale as well. He's not good people, son, and I want you to promise me that you'll stay away from him."

Stiles cussed internally. He hated lying straight to his dad's face and knowing that Derek would show up later that night, at their house no less, was pretty damn far from staying away from the guy. "I-"

"Stiles," Claudia said, drawing out his name in a warning sense, "do as your told. You're in enough trouble as is."

"But mom-"

"No, Stiles, you can't weasel your way out of this one. Now, promise!"

Stiles sucked in his bottom lip and sent his father a quick glance. His face was turning red and his eyes narrowing.

"Jeez, fine, I promise. I won't seek out Derek anymore."

John gave a curt nod and took a step toward his son. He grabbed his arm and led him to the living room, where he gave him a gentle push to make him sit down on the couch. Claudia followed them and both grown ups positioned themselves in front of Stiles. Arms were once again crossed and concerned, angry looks found their way to their faces.

"What were you and Scott doing with Derek?" John asked.

"You wouldn't believe the truth anyway," Stiles mumbled quietly and looked up at his parents.

"Try us," Claudia said surprisingly calmly.

Stiles shook his head a little and bit his tongue.

"We were just gathering information."

"What about? And don't tell me you and Scott are researching the murder on your own, Stiles, or so help me God!"

"Uh, no, that's not it. We were just... it..."

"Today, Stiles!" John ordered firmly, clearly loosing his patience.

"We just-I heard that the Hales know about supernatural stuff and I wanted to see if that's true..."

He could hear how lame that sounded and wasn't the least bit surprised when his mom shook her head in disappointment.

"I can't believe you'd come up with this kind of rubbish, Stiles. That's just a plain insult and you should be ashamed of yourself!"

The teen looked down and sensed his dad tensing up from anger. He was certain that he would unleash a verbal smackdown the next second – most likely followed by a physical one.

The entire Stilinski family flinched slightly when the phone suddenly rang, the noisy bell intruding the tense atmosphere.

John sent Stiles a stern glance, then left to answer the telephone. When he disappeared from the room Claudia sat down next to Stiles.

"Stiles, is there a connection between last night and you meeting up with Derek Hale today? Were you even checking up on this Lydia yesterday?"

"Mom, I-"

Stiles had no idea what to say, but both he and Claudia looked up when they heard John raise his voice.

"HE DID WHAT? Yes, I promise you I'll deal with this immediately!"

Claudia gaped at her son and Stiles cleared his throat while looking anywhere but at his obviously confused mother.

The next moment John reentered the living room, his forehead crinkled and his eyes gleaming furiously. He looked straight at his son, then growled the complex atrocity that was Stiles' full name, making the teen shrink back in the couch.

"Do you have something you want to share?" John added angrily.

"Uh, I'm guessing it was Mr. Whittemore on the phone?" Stiles asked in a small voice.

John gave a nod and raised his brows.

"Told me an interesting story! Apparently you and Scott got into a fight with Jackson after school. Correct?"

Stiles licked his lips.

"Yes, but dad-"

"And apparently you used your elbow to punch him in the face?"

"Yes, but-"

"And thereby breaking his nose?!"

Claudia gasped and swiftly got off the couch.

"Yes, dad," Stiles said, a bit annoyed now, "but Jackson-"

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence when he realized that he couldn't really justify breaking someone's nose over words that had been said about a kid he wasn't even supposed to know. Stiles looked up to see both Claudia and John eyeing him, clearly waiting for an answer.

"He... he called Scott a bad name..."

Claudia closed her eyes for a moment and John gesticulated wildly with his arms.

"A bad name? Stiles, what about that makes it alright to break his nose?! Huh?"

Stiles just looked at his feet.

"And funny you should bring up bad words, because Jackson's father told me that you had told Jackson to, and I quote, "shut his fucking mouth", called him a "moronic nitwit", asked him to "fuck off" and then threatened to "knock his teeth in"!"

"STILES!" Claudia boomed, her hands curling into fists by her sides, "this is not how we raised you! How dare you speak to someone this way! I am SO disappointed in you, young man!"

John pinched his lips and beckoned Stiles to stand.

"Office. Now!"

"Dad, please, I'm really sorry-"

"Well, you're going to be when I'm through with you! I've obviously been too lenient lately."

"No, you really haven't," Stiles croaked and felt his palms turn sweaty.

Claudia turned her back on Stiles and John and walked towards the kitchen. Then she stopped and turned back around.

"We have always tried raising you with love and talk to you first when you did something unacceptable, Stiles," Claudia said with a shaky voice that almost broke Stiles' heart a little, "and your dad has only taken his belt to you when you have truly deserved it. Now you have broken a classmate's nose and is spending time with a petty criminal. If this is not one of those times I don't know what is!"

Stiles closed his eyes firmly for a second and felt his dad grip his bicep.

-xxx-

A muffled cry of pain found its way through Stiles' tightly shut mouth when the belt thwapped against his backside again.

He sucked in a breath when he heard the piece of leather cut through the air almost immediately after the previous smack, and Stiles rocked forward when the strap kissed the junction between butt and thigh for the umpteenth time.

"OW!" he squawked, "dad, sto-AH!"

Behind him John had steeled his heart and used his determination and disappointment to keep going. He raised his arm again, catching Stiles across the meatiest part of his rear, and the smack was so loud it reverberated around the room.

"I'm sorry," Stiles tried in a shaky voice, tears starting to make their way down his cheeks from the pain and humiliation, "sor-AHOW-sorry, I'msorryI'msorryAAH'msorry! OW, dad, stop!"

And finally he did. The belt was warm when he put it back on and John swallowed a lump, thinking about the pain he'd just caused his son.

"This had better be the last time I had to do this, Stiles. I don't enjoy this."

Stiles just let out an illegible garble and pushed himself up to a standing position. John squeezed his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but Stiles was too distraught to really notice.

"I want you to go to your room now, Stiles. Lay down and think about what you've done. I'll have mom come get you when dinner is ready."

Stiles nodded and wobbled out of the office on weak legs. He made a stop at the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. He had a forming bruise on his cheek where Jackson had punched him, but Stiles was sure it would fade in comparison to his ass. He only considered for a second then loosened his pants and gently pushed them down. He shimmied his boxers down to mid-thigh and glanced at his backside in the mirror.

Stiles nearly gasped at the sight. His usually rather pale rear was painted a crimson red and belt-shaped welts had risen in several streaks across his ass. A few of them already had darker spots and Stiles sighed to himself. He definitely wouldn't be sitting comfortably at dinner!

The teen left the bathroom and finally made it to his room where he fell down on his bed, stomach down, and winced quietly. Then he closed his eyes, desperation brewing in the pit of his stomach. How the hell was he going to get out of this gigantic clusterfuck of a situation!

* * *

 **I'll do my best to update (pretty) soon :)**


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